Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Morocco and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Knickerbockers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Maleditus Sound,
Neil Young,
Laurel Aitken,
Pylon,
Guru Guru,
Toni Rubio,
Roxette,
The Five Americans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fatback Band,
Gichy Dan,
Amazonics,
the Association,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cecil Taylor,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Detroit Cobras,
Silicon Teens,
The Cramps,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Can,
Robert Görl,
Stereo Dub,
Blake Baxter,
D'Angelo,
This Heat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joyce Sims,
Schoolly D,
The Dead C,
Cybotron,
The Happenings,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantytec,
Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol,
T. Rex,
The Beau Brummels,
Danielle Patucci,
Saccharine Trust,
MDC,
The Invisible,
Kerrie Biddell,
Slave,
Roxy Music,
Hot Snakes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Knickerbockers,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Freddie Wadling,
Thee Headcoats,
John Foxx,
The Angels of Light,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Colin Newman,
Panda Bear,
Roger Hodgson,
The Blues Magoos,
Visage,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.